Doon

“Modern plumbing!” Vee exclaimed as she turned an ornate faucet and watched in fascination as fresh water flowed out. “I wasn’t expecting this.”


“Neither was I.” I surveyed the rest of the spacious room. Blue and green ceramic tiling accented with little lion crests covered the floor and all four walls. While Vee turned her attention to the gold-plated mirror over the sink, I stepped farther into the room toward a sunken bath the size of a Jacuzzi. I tested the tap and hot water began to flow.

I couldn’t help but clap my hands together in delight. “Houston, we have hot water. I wonder if the ogre has any bubble bath.”

Rather than answer me, Vee made a small noise of alarm. Panicked, I spun away from the bathtub and toward my friend. But my alarm was unnecessary: She stared into the mirror, futilely rubbing a streak of dirt on her cheek. The wisps of hair that had escaped her high ponytail accented her face, giving her a sexy, windblown look. Attacking another smudge, this time on her forehead, she groaned, “I look disgusting!”

If by disgusting she meant flawless. It occurred to me for the umpteenth time in the course of our friendship that if I didn’t love her so much, I’d be obligated to hate her on behalf of Plain Janes everywhere. I also knew, thanks to Vee, that even the prettiest of girls could be plagued by self-doubt about their looks. “Impossible. You would still be stunning even after dunking your head in a pig sty.”

“Uh, thanks—I think.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder, careful not to encounter my own undoubtedly revolting reflection. “I wouldn’t worry about it, anyway. It’s not like you need to impress these people.”

As soon as I said it, I remembered the reason we were here. How stupid could I be? She thought she had some kind of cosmic connection with Kilt Boy.

Gently rubbing the streak on her cheek, I doubled back. “It’s not anything a bath won’t fix. Doesn’t a soak sound heavenly right about now? Light some candles, maybe pour in a little lavender oil, just kick back with—Duncan.”

The slightly blushing prince filled the doorway. Clearly, he was uncomfortable being in the bathroom with members of the opposite sex. And since he’d caught me naked in my imagination … that made two of us.

“M’ ladies?” His strangled voice sounded like he’d just hit puberty all over again. “Supper has—ehm—been brought up for ye. I wanted to let you—uh—know before it gets cold.”

Before he could escape, Vee pointed to the sink. “Where did the modern plumbing come from?”

His demeanor instantly relaxed, and Duncan inclined his head toward me. “Contrary to what Mackenna may believe, we’re no’ barbarians.” With a wink, he left the room.

“Arrg! What a total jerkwad!”

I waited for Vee’s agreement, but she just laughed and said, “Let’s go eat.” Leave it to her to forgive any slight from brutes bearing casseroles.

In the main room, Fergus and a young woman with strawberry-blonde hair tucked into a white cap were busily arranging a feast. Gleaming platters overflowing with vegetables, fruit, bread, cheeses, and meat waited for us. My stomach growled in approval.

Duncan introduced the girl as Fiona Fairshaw and explained, “Fiona is at your service.”

Resisting my baser impulses to dive face-first into the buffet, I waited impatiently as our self-appointed benefactor said his good-byes. Laughter colored Duncan’s tone as he said, “I am needed elsewhere, m’ ladies, so I will take my leave. But please, make yourselves at home in my quarters. Fiona can get you anything ye may have need of … including sheets.”

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